


Lonely Mime

by Caramel_Illusions



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: American Sign Language, Backstory, Character Study, Headcanon, Light Angst, Making Friends, Mute mime bomb, Muteness, No Spoilers, Not Beta Read, Swearing, add more tag later, how to tag, just for fun, lonely mime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22060417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caramel_Illusions/pseuds/Caramel_Illusions
Summary: He's just trying to make some friends and get by. Why is that so hard?
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I need to know more mime bomb! So this will be my take on his story until the show actually gives us some backstory or something.

_If life is like a river; always bendings and turning, then the wisest choice would be to follow the water to wherever it may lead. You could try and go against the current, but why would you? People always take the path of least resistance. They always end up letting the river take them where it wants to. It’s the truth and its natural. I myself had long ago subscribed to the river of life. So when people ask why I joined V.I.L.E. Why did I choose to become a spy? The answer is...it was simply the natural thing to do._

_Of_ course _, I can’t say that. I don’t have the means to. Not verbally at least. Which is actually one of the reasons why it only seemed natural to become a spy. Spies are meant to be stealthy, covert and silent; for once in my life being mute seemed to work in my favor. Huzzah!_

_Some may describe me as a wallflower or alternatively and more commonly a creep. But, I like to think of myself as just a fly on the wall. People are simply fun to watch, to observe. They keep so many things hidden under social courtesies and polite smiles. So many little nuances and secrets that I love discovering like some sort of treasure hunter or explorer. The way they hold themselves, their clothes and accessories, the tilt of their heads, the look in their eyes to even the shift of their weight, says more than they ever could; voice or no voice. There’s no need to speak or directly interact with them when you have all these other means of figuring out who they are and what they’re thinking._

_Although being able to speak does seem to be rather convenient in relaying information...it’s more upfront I suppose_.… _I could gain the same result through sign language (provided the person new American Sign Language) and until becoming Mime Bomb that’s how I largely tried to communicate and often I find myself relying on my sign language when I have to give lengthy reports to my professors or when someone just can’t figure out what I’m miming. I guess I could also communicate through written words that would be even easier. When I was younger I used to just carry around a whiteboard with me at all times because no one ever knew what I was signing. Sign language and writing are convenient ways of communication, but honestly, I think miming is way more fun. Plus when I’m miming I can communicate no matter the language barrier; I could always get my point across (so long as I wasn’t dealing with a moron) It was also something more memorable. I don’t want to be just another silent spy in a black suit. I want to stand out a little bit more than that, be a bit more creative than that, you know?_

_But ...shouldn't a spy want to be unmemorable…? Why did I want to be a dumb mime again? Everyone thinks they are dumb and creepy. They never hesitate to say so...More importantly, mimes are easily recognizable. You don’t just mistake anyone for a mime. A mime can’t just walk in somewhere without drawing some kind of attention. Could it be that I want... people to see me…?_

_Am I...lonely…?_

I put the pen down slowly all the while staring at the word lonely.

I wrote it down......because…

I wrote it...because…

Slowly I lift my head and glanced around the desolate room.

There’s no one here.

Everyone is gone…

I think they got in trouble for...something or other and now they’re in detention...

Why wasn’t I invited?

Why am I...left all alone?

Harshly slamming the notebook closed I locked it before hiding it on the top side of the bottom of my bed frame covering it up with some black cloth that I had velcroed on. Was it too late to change code names? I should talk to- No. I'm not Black Sheep. They wouldn’t bend the rules for me...I sat on my bed trying to think back to what led me here...I needed to trace the river back and find the source...let's see…Where did the river start? First day of school? Hm...Perhaps or maybe it's when I chose to go to V.I.L.E. or is it even further back than that..? Hmm, let's do a quick overview of my life from the beginning; SparkNotes style...Yes, that’s a good enough place to start…Let’s see...


	2. Background Story

Born in New York, New York and orphaned at a young age…

I can’t really remember what my parents looked like…much less what they were like….

Wonder why they left me…

It doesn't matter... 

I was always alone at the orphanage. I had selective mutism which meant while there wasn’t anything wrong with my brain or vocal cords I still struggled to talk. The kids thought that was weird, that  _ I _ was weird. So I took the time to learn about theatre and sign language. I thought I was pretty expressive but everyone always had one adjective to describe me... quiet… I was the lonely quiet kid

...lonely…

No one tried to communicate with me anyway so I resigned myself to simply watching them, silently. It was kind of a relief, really. I didn't have to talk to anyone or put in any effort into trying to be social with someone I didn’t like or have to pretend to like things because everyone else liked them. I could keep to myself and do the things I liked. I could concentrate on myself and my needs alone. No one to interrupt me while I read my Shakespeare or see me when I tried my hand at interpretive dancing. No one to ridicule me as I try to learn the piano or practiced my calligraphy. Honestly, I was properly the most proactive kid in that entire orphanage given my age. 

When I was 10 I was finally adopted…

However,

My adopted family only wanted the Adoption Assistance Money. Pretty sure Carol was on something new every next Wednesday and Joe was always so short-tempered. They gave me some clothes, food, and water. The basic necessities, but I could tell they weren’t ever going to love me. They were too preoccupied with other things like drugs, alcohol...their crumbling marriage.

Living with Joe led me to hone my skills in body reading. I learned to tell when he was especially upset and ready to hit something. He would tap his fingers against his thigh and his shoulders would be hunched ever so slightly as small veins began to pop from his right hand and the slight stench of booze would waft off his person. If I stared too long his left eye would twitch and his frown lines would deepen. 

“What are you staring at you little brat?! Are you judging me? You think you’re so smart, so much better huh? Answer me!” 

The pain was instant but his movements were so slow and sluggish. He was like a giant swinging his fist at a fly. 

The man clearly had some form of inferiority complex. When he got like that I made sure I wasn’t in his line of sight. Luckily I was the master of hiding and Joe sucked at seeking. Carol wasn’t much better though. If Joe wasn’t hitting me he was definitely hitting her. In order to cope with her utter helplessness and in order to feel more in control of her life she would abuse her authority over me...in short, she tried me to make me feel like shit.

“Hmm? Hungry? I already cooked this evening. You should have eaten more than, your so skinny all bones no meat. I work so hard to keep this place in order. What am I your slave? I’m tired...okay you have no idea how hard it is taking care of a kid like you. Did you ever think about that? I’ll make you some cereal but just go to bed afterward.” 

“I told you to clean your room! What is this pigsty?! Are you deaf to?! If this place isn't clean by the time I get back I’m getting Joe you hear me?”

Obvious, use of emotional manipulation. Jokes on her I heard that kind of talk all the time before at the orphanage so...HA! Ain’t nothin gonna make me feel like shit! Especially not some emotionally unstable addict or her shitty husband!

Oh god, and they were always so strict about everything to. I couldn’t go out after 8 and if I came home any later than that they would lock me out of the house and only leave some raggedy blanket out for me.

So it was only natural that I learned how to move covertly and make as little noise as possible in order to bypass them. I also learned how to pick locks so I could sneak back inside the house or get an extra snack from the locked pantry.

I ended up leaving, didn’t even bother to look back as the house turned an ugly black under the flames. It was the only natural thing to do. Later on, I found out that the skills I obtained while surviving under that household were actually pretty useful in the real world. I mostly kept to myself having learned that a lot of people didn’t appreciate my presence. That’s around the time my fixation for people watching intensified, mostly thanks to street artists like musicians, dancers, and mimes...Mimes, huh?... Is that why I chose to become Mime Bomb? They  _ were _ always kind enough to get me something to eat...and I respected how they kept in character even when off the job...Meh, my reasoning behind becoming a mime themed villain was a rabbit hole I wasn’t motivated to follow just yet. 

In any case, New York was a big sprawling city with hundreds of questionable figures; trust was hard to come by. I lied, stole, cheated and snitched to get ahead. I was especially good at snitching. They say snitches get stitches, but that’s a lie. Only bad snitches get stitches. As long as people don’t know you’re the rat you have nothing to worry about. After all who’s going to suspect some scrawny mute redhead teen? When you’re quiet everyone just assumes your innocent and polite and that you aren’t really listening to them. But, oh I am. I’m listening to everything they’re saying. I know more than I let on. I know everything. And, apparently, I was so good at busting criminals that some local detective tried to recruit me as his apprentice….

The offer was...tempting. He would provide decent shelter, food and water, and some clean clothes that were legally bought. I was wary of this older gentleman, who's to say he wasn’t some sort of predator. This is New York after all.

He was in his mid-forties. Short and broad with a strong jawline and salt and pepper colored hair. He wasn’t a drunkard as he had a strong sense of balance and solid footsteps. Didn’t wobble or stink of booze like Joe did. Wasn’t a smoker not anymore; yellowing teeth and a constant need to have a toothpick in his mouth suggested he used to be. His hands were large and callous the signs of a hard worker and while there were signs of a wedding band on his finger there was no ring. Either he didn’t wear it at work or he just got divorced. His chewed fingernails suggest he was under a lot of stress and his shoulders were wound up with some underlying tension while his eyes were outlined with dark circles and bags. Even his gruff voice couldn’t hide the slight plea in his tone when he made me his offer. I looked his name up online before accepting his offer and he was legit…. His name was Emmett Hawkshaw! HA! His name is so on point I have to laugh every time. 

It had been a while since I had any daily luxuries such as hot water and clean clothes. I wanted to take a shower and actually sleep on a bed for once so I took his offer. I helped him solve a few cases here and there. He mostly took the credit for everything. That kind of pissed me off but who was I to complain I didn’t have to sleep in the streets anymore. But….it was so boring! Day in and day out it was just working, School, Work, School, Work, School, even more work. I tried to make conversation with the man but I may as well have been invisible. Emmett was always so engrossed in his work it was as if nothing else existed...I don’t think Emmett even knew sign language he certainly never bothered to learn. It was all just so...lonely...Even with Emmett around it was always so quiet and lonely...no voices just the sound of stale breathing and the ticking of a clock. It was boring, trivial, dull, monotonous, meaningless, some other negative adjectives. No wonder Mrs. Hawkshaw left I thought cynically.

To escape the monotonous grey that was my life I took up writing. I scribbled down whatever came to mind in a journal just to have something to do besides school and work. At least while I was in the streets I got to meet and interact with new, interesting people. All the people I see now are so boring, predictable and soaked in a dark sludge of grim and melancholy…. 

What am I doing with my life? What’s the point of solving something anyway? You’re not even really ‘solving’ anything nor are you preventing the problem you're just providing an explanation. 

‘It’s just the decent thing to do.’ Emmett would say. 

That’s it. He wouldn’t elaborate more than that, wasn’t much of a talker. It was all...just..so URG!!! Even thinking back on it now it was so boring and insignificant. I didn’t want to stay in New York as some gumshoe’s assistance. I wanted to be someone, go somewhere! Learn something new. Meet new people, see new things. Discover new sites! Do something exciting!

But gradually the melancholic grey clouds that permeated my life slowly dissipated and let in the shyest of sun rays through. The stone walls that surrounded Emmett slowly lowered and the icy glaze behind his eyes melted away. His nails were neatly trimmed and filed, back straight and chest puffed out. The dark bags under his eyes just like the grey skies cleared away, still present but nowhere near as bad as they used to be and I felt like things got a little better…

He was a good detective. I know he was because he was always so attentive and observant about things...about me. He always knew when something caught my eye, or when I had a cold coming up or if something irked me a certain way... 

He would buy me books. Lots and lots of books and he taught me how to read all of them. If I showed even a small remote interest in a book he would get it for me and then he would want me to write a summary about it so we could discuss it. He was also the one who bought me my journal in the first place alongside, a small whiteboard and dry eraser, and a cheap bookmark cause god forbid I doggy fold a page. 

After finishing a job he would always place a hearty hand on my shoulder or head and say ‘good job kid’....and as much as I hated to admit it that was my favorite part, it was the one thing I looked forward to after every case. Because although his hands were big and rough they were also warm, safe and filled with weighty feelings of pride...Sometimes after a case was finished or if we were by the area we would go out and eat some greasy fast food (the man loved a good cheap New-York style pizza) and if he was in an especially generous mood we would go to a cafe and I would be able to order the sweetest sugar-filled tooth-rotting thing I could. 

“That stuff is gonna ruin your teeth.” He commented offhandedly before taking a sip of his black coffee. 

‘ _ Your just jealous because you know if you ate it you would die on the spot.”  _ I wrote down with ease always prepared for are daily quips. 

“Perceptive as ever huh?” 

‘ _ Perceptive or just psychic?’  _

“Neither you’re just annoying.” 

‘ _ Take that back you batman wanna be!’  _

“First off: Batman wants to be me. Second: Shut up and eat your cavity-inducing dessert .” 

“ _ Yeah ‘cause I’m  _ **such** _ a loudmouth Mr. Sour face.”  _

“Yeah, yeah. Just remember to brush your teeth, brace face.”

“ _ Oh bite me!” _

Then...Unexpectedly just a few weeks later Emmett died. Heart failure...I personally think his work was to blame. He had just gotten a big job. He said it was some big conspiracy theory, something about a giant secret organization for criminals...Not that that mattered anymore...I was by myself again...Hmm...I’m sensing a pattern.

Anywho I didn’t want to just leave Emmett’s apartment...It was my home...But I didn’t really have a job without Emmett and I wasn’t even out of high school yet. How was I going to pay rent?… So I dropped out of school and tried to find a part-time job...but it wasn’t really cutting. I was barely making ends meet so I turned to shoplift and bank robberies. It was actually way easier than I thought it would be. I’m still debating if that means I’m just unnaturally good at it or if security just sucks. Regardless, I might have been good at stealing but I was still a little rusty, after all, it’s been a while since I had to do any of this. I haven’t had to because Emmett would always provide for me but now that he’s gone...I gotta do what I gotta do. 

Then one night I’m robbing a new jewelry store that just opened up when all of a sudden before I know it BAM! Chloroformed! I thought I was done for. I have to thank my lucky Emmett that they didn’t hand me over to the police or even worse kill me. They totally looked like guys who would kill people if need be. Instead, they wanted to recruit me to some sort of school called Valuable Imports Lavish Exports or V.I.L.E for short…

I couldn’t help but raise a skeptical eyebrow at the name. It sounded so childishly evil. But, this was where the river was taking me so it was only natural that I went along. I didn’t really have too many other options at that point. They said they would pay the rent for the apartment indefinitely if I attended and graduated.

“One more thing...Besides attending and graduating we have one more teensy condition.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“We hear you are rather good at gathering intel.” 

I nodded and motioned them to continue with a wave of my hand

“We want you to be this faculty’s eyes and ears.” 

“This school will not tolerate any misbehavior, we have a reputation to uphold.”

“Do you understand? This is to be kept only between us and the rest of the faculty.” 

I gave them a thumbs up and nodded my head. They wanted me to be their personal snitch. I could do that. 

I boarded a private jet airline and took off. Let’s see where this river leads me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that my college classes have started updates are gonna be even slower if you can believe it! Reduced to nothing but a snail's craw oh the horror!


	3. 3

Crystal blue oceans. Beautiful white sand and a warm smiling sun paired with a fresh ocean breeze; salty and fragrant with various tropical flowers.   


Paradise. 

It was so very different from the concrete jungle that was New York. It was cleaner and more peaceful.   


This was where I was going to live for the next four years of my life...I almost couldn’t believe it. I don’t think I have ever been this excited for something since well...ever! I bet Emmett would be so jealous! Well...don’t you worry I am so going to enjoy this for the both of us. 

An imposing woman by the name of Coach Brunt gave the orientation speech and laid out some of the ground rules. No contact with the outside world which meant no cellphones. 

Cool, okay yeah check that box I don’t have any friends or family out there anyway! Easy enough. Also...note to self do not get on Coach's bad side I’m pretty sure from the way she so easily crushed the phone in her hands she could just as easily crush my windpipe and kill me instantly. Valuable Imports and Lavish Exports my ass this isn’t any normal school. But, I’m already here no sense in turning back. 

Orientation went rather smoothly...at least for me. Some handsome Aussie made fun of the pretty native islander’s name...

(at least I’m assuming she’s a native as it seems as though she’s lived on this island for quite a long time evident by her deep connection with the coach and relaxed walk into the room as if she was at home)

...what was her name...coach said it was...lambkins.. ? Wow her parents must have hated her...or loved her? I can’t really tell... either way she sure taught the aussie a lesson having roughly grabbed him and with a stern self-assured voice said. 

“Only my friends call me ‘Lambkins.’ My code name’s Black Sheep. Do you understand? Nod if you understand.” 

I stifled what would have been a small laugh not at all worried about making noise but more about hiding my smile and the shaking of my shoulders. I liked her. 

After orientation I made my way to the dormitories. The dormroom kind of resembles military barracks. This place just keeps getting shadier and shadier by the minute. The room door suddenly swished open and in came Black Sheep carrying a small box and a giant globe. Looks like we’re the only two here. I should probably introduce myself… Slowly realization dawned upon me… I’ve never interacted with kids my own age before...much less a self assured pretty one! Usually I’m always ostracized but I actually have the chance to make some... _ friends _ ..

How does one do that? Okay deep breaths... She’s currently putting her stuff away so I guess it would be rude to interrupt her...should I wait? Now that I’m thinking about it maybe I should get out my whiteboard and dry eraser pen. But just as she finished unpacking the door opened again and in came the rest of our classmates. Without missing a beat, she walked towards them with a welcoming smile.

“Hi. I’m Black Sheep.” 

How does she make it look so easy? 

Well at least I didn’t have to bother asking them for their names as they introduced themselves.

“Hola. I am Antonio.”   


Stocky, strong, Latin American judging from his accent not Spaniard. With a quick smile and a friendly hello he seemed like a good boy with a heart of gold. 

“Jean Paul. Bonjour.”

French and spoke in a hurried tone must be those straight to business type of guys. Slim and tall. Name is a possible nod to French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre. With long lower lashes and ear piercings he seemed quite fashionable and probably took his beauty regiment very seriously.

“Sheena.” 

Exasperated sigh and a dismissive tone. Rude and not one who puts up with any bullshit. Platinum blonde hair and blue eyes with no distinct accent probably American. 

Then came the sheepish Aussie. 

“Uh Black Sheep was it? The names Graham.” He said extending out a hand as a form of truce. 

Black Sheep didn’t look all to impress with his attempt to bury the hatchet.

“Huh, is this where you hide your pearls, little girl?”

Sheena asked coyly with a demeaning tone. 

Hungrily gazing at the Russian nesting dolls; her blue thieving eyes scanned them for any possible valuables.

“Please don’t touch my stuff.” Despite the use of the word please it was a demand not a request.

Sheena turned with a sly grin on her face. Mental Note: Sheena enjoys stirring conflict.

“What,  _ these _ ?”

“I said keep your paws off.” Her tone was louder now and tense. Those dolls must hold some form of sentimental value or she wouldn’t get this worked up.

Her hands were balled into fist, her stance wide and ready. Shoulders tense and eyes furrowed. She was ready to throw down. A fight on the first day? Guess the faculty actually had a good reason to make me their personal snitch.

Black Sheep’s warning, however, didn’t deter Sheena if anything it encouraged her. 

Things were getting tense as Antonio and Jean cautiously looked on not wanting to get in between a possible cat fight. Luckily Graham stepped in and defused the situation. Diplomatic and charming with a sparkling grin and a cheeky wink he was all too easy to forgive as evident by Black Sheep’s small thankful smile. 

I looked around the room again… surveying the new tenants. Everyone here looked like some attractive secret agent none of them really had that off the street look to them..did I look like someone who came off the streets… ? Silently I made my way out of the dorms and into the restrooms staring at the mirror. For the first time in my life I didn’t like my reflection. I never gave my appearance much thought...but compared to everyone else…

Acne covered skin caused by an imbalance of hormones and my love for all things sugar coated and sweet. I had a few blemishes and acne scars to with a splash of freckles across my face… nothing like Sheena who despite her beauty mark had porcelain perfect skin or Black Sheep with her youthful mocha colored skin that was free of all impurities.

My hair was anything but perfect as it was matted onto my scalp and slightly frizzy at the tips..not well kept like Jean Paul’s or playfully swept back like Grahams. I still had my braces too so I look hella geeky. I didn’t have perfect teeth like Graham or Antonio...then my small eyes with dark circles… nothing like Black Sheep’s large piercing grey eyes...I looked like a wreck...a frown found it way onto my face…

All of Carol’s relentless emotional manipulation and society’s general disregard for me has never once shaken my self worth but it only took one minute in that room full of attractive thieves to shatter my confidence completely…

Well we didn’t get into this werido school on looks alone. It’s all about skill...Yeah...I probably have an edge over them since I’m from the streets and all…The classroom is where I’ll prove my worth. I’m not outclassed yet! They’ll be begging to be my friend. 


	4. Operation make friends

Okay...so the first day didn’t go horribly but I sure as hell didn’t impress any of my classmates either…

Paper folding wasn’t hard but there were so many steps that I often messed up because I forgot a step or added one fold too many. I don’t even want to talk about self-defense class. I think I lasted exactly one minute...It probably didn’t help that I was distracted by how cool Black Sheep looked when she was fighting Graham. She really does make everything look so easy. 

Countess Cleo’s class seemed difficult at first but once I knew how to spot the difference between actual valuable goods and discount garbage it was smooth sailing from there. I have quite the skillful eye after all...After that, the day was pretty uneventful. We got to become familiarized with some of V.I.L.E’s cool gadgets and learned some simple tricks like the bait and switch.

It’s only the first day, I remind myself. I still have plenty of chances to make my classmates like me. That’s why I’m keeping a close eye on all of them. Observing their ticks and habits and since we’re going to be friends soon I won’t tell anyone about the fight that almost happened this morning. ‘Cause that’s what friends do right? They have each others’ backs.

I’m also keeping an eye on their beauty routines. People just can’t be born perfect. Yeah, okay, I know I said it wasn’t about looks but we’re all more or less evenly matched in skill. I’m the only one lacking in the physical appeal department, which is so unfair...So..time for a little espionage. 

It was rather difficult learning the girls’ beauty routine as well...they are girls so they have their own separate bathroom and that was a line I was not willing to cross. I have morals! But, from what I could gleam though was that Sheena always carried around some form of sunscreen. I often see her reapply it to her face. Makes sense this is a tropical island after all and if she wanted to keep her milky white skin she would have to heavily protect it from the sun. I’ve never seen Black Sheep put on sunscreen or makeup besides some lip tint. But, sometimes when I’m near her, especially in the morning, she emits this earthly almost nutty scent. It's rather mild and by the end of the day that nutty smell is completely gone so extrapolating from that I’m guessing she uses Shea butter for her skin and hair. 

For the boys, I was able to gain a lot more intel. Mostly in large parts to eavesdropping on Antonio’s and Jean’s conversations. Just as I predicted Jean was very put together and took great pride in his beauty routine and was all too willing to share his bountiful knowledge of skincare with Antonio... _ only _ Antonio. I get the feeling that Jean doesn’t really like me all too much. 

Why?

I honestly don’t know, I’m a delight! 

All I’ve ever heard him say on the matter is ‘ _ there’s something off about that kid _ ’ or ‘ _ I’m pretty sure he’s stalking us _ ’ or ‘ _ I feel like I’m being watched _ ’ or ‘ _ someone stole my toner and I’m pretty sure it was braceface _ ’ which by the way was a baseless accusation, even if it was true. Whatever! Who needed that guy anyway?

The short answer. Antonio. Antonio needed him... _wanted_ him more like. From day one he seemed to naturally gravitate towards him, like a magnet. I guess opposites attract. I wouldn’t mind them getting together. I think they make great partners as they complement each other's strengths and make up for each others’ weaknesses...I wouldn’t care...I  _ couldn’t  _ care if they ended up hooking up as them dating wouldn’t really affect me in any way... If it weren’t for the fact that Jean hates my guts and doesn’t let Antonio anywhere near me! Like...What the hell? Do you think I’m gonna whisk Antonio away? If you haven’t noticed I’m not the prettiest swan in the lake. I’m getting there but like Antonio doesn’t understand me half the time, anyway. 

* * *

“ _ Sup, you’re Antonio right?” _ I signed making sure to move my hands extra slowly as if by prolonging the motion it increased the chance of him understanding. 

The Latin boy blinked. Then slowly he raised his hands. I could feel the corners of my mouth turned upwards as a smile formed on my face. Did he know sign language? But, instantly my hope was crushed when he slapped his hands on top of my palms then moved his hands down to slap the back of mine before finishing it off by brandishing a pair of finger guns at me.

“Did I do that right…?” He asked his voice wavering slightly at the end indicating he was nervous, his awkward smile doing nothing to combat that fact. 

Okay...bad start. Should have known not to start off with sign language…

I shook my head and Antonio’s shy smile dropped and he looked like a hurt puppy.

I patted around my pants looking for my pen and paper. Not being able to locate any I sighed. I guess that just leaves charades... I pointed to myself. 

“I..no...you...” 

Yes.. me...Good! It seems like we’re getting somewhere. 

I nodded with a reassuring smile before moving on. Next, I pointed to my throat. 

“Throat..no! Neck..? You neck? You next? You next to what? Oh! Me? I’m next..as in my turn?”

I could only shake my head in disappointment my hand cradling the side of my temples as I felt a headache coming along...This wasn’t going to work... No way in hell...

As night drew closer, I headed towards the beach intending to get a little me time away from all the obviously evil spy training and shengagnins. I just need some time to stop and think...maybe write something down in my journal…

Looking out into the vastness of the open ocean I sat down on the soft white sand of the beach. 

Five potential friends...I had five potential friends and Jean already doesn’t like me and Antonio can’t even hold a conversation with me...

It’s been five weeks...and I wasn’t any closer to becoming best friends with any of my classmates than I was on the first day of school! 

Mission ‘Make Some Friends’ is not going to plan. Not at all...I mean...I knew it was going to be difficult given my poor socialization skills but still…! I exhaled a puff of air in frustration running a hand through my messy hair before curling my legs up and wrapping my arms around myself forming a small ball. I gazed out towards the sea watching the dark blue ocean waves lazily rise and fall from the shoreline...

…

….

….

“...!” 

Bolting up and lightly slapping my cheeks I tried to rekindle my spirits.

Come on! It’s not like me to give up so easily! I have four fucking years to make at least ONE of them my BFFL. I had a rocky start but, hey, newsflash life has never been easy for me anyway. I survived New York! By myself! I can do anything!

Nodding vigorously at my imaginary coach, I stared out into the open ocean feeling more determined than ever. I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers like ribbons of sand. I don't need Antonio or Jean in my life. I never needed them before. I don’t need them as friends. I don’t  _ want  _ them as friends. Forget them, they’re a lost cause; too engrossed in each other to really care about the world around them...This might actually be a good thing. It’s like Emmett used to say. 

_ “You don’t need a hundred people to like you, you just need to find one or two suckers who can tolerate your bullshit and your set for life. Quality over quantity.”  _

Yeah! Past Emmett has a point. I need to focus on quality, not quantity. If Jean and Antonio are out that means the only people left are Sheena, Graham, and Black Sheep…Hmm...So who should I try and befriend first? 

Well, Sheena is a stone-cold bitch through and through. Milky white skin with platinum blonde hair and a face that was forever frozen in between a frown and a smirk. She was confident to the point of narcissism and so snarky and rude that there wasn’t enough room in her personality for things such as sympathy or basic human courtesy. She vaguely reminds me of Regina George..no scratch that she  _ heavily  _ reminds me of Regina George from Mean Girls. She was beautiful, headstrong and manipulative. Aloof like a grumpy cat but with the physical prowess akin to that of a large tiger. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was actually part werecat or something. 

There was also Graham. Charming, handsome Graham who oozed out so much confidence that it overflowed and swirled around him creating the aura of a pure cocky bastard. His cheeky smiles and slightly mischievous eyes did little to deter that fact. He was undoubtedly a rascal. Always looking for something fun and always finding new ways to cause trouble. Regardless he is still a hard worker and a genius when it comes to gadgetry. It was no wonder Dr. Bellum took such a liking to him. He was protective and loyal; you could see it in the way he cares for and shelters Black Sheep like an older brother. Charismatic, level-headed and practical it was easy to see why everyone saw him as the pseudo leader of our class. 

Black Sheep was a jack of all trades. Quick to adapt and always passionate to learn. She like the rest of my peers didn’t lack any confidence, but her self-assurance never passed the point of narcissism or haughtiness like the others. Her prankster personality largely stemmed from boredom and wasn’t done out of malice. Black Sheep was infinitely kinder than Sheena, more patient than Jean, more quick-witted and smart than Antonio, and as charismatic as Gray. Aside from being basically perfect, I’m pretty sure she was the epitome of youth. Full of vigor and spirit, outgoing and mischievous but endearing with stubborn resolve.

With all that said I think I should try and befriend Sheena first. Why Sheena when it’s obvious the better choice would have been Graham or Black Sheep? Well, it’s  _ because  _ Graham and Black Sheep  _ were _ better. Better than Sheena, better than me...too good for me, too perfect. 

They were, in a way, completely separate from me and the world I lived in; tethered together by gold and silver strings in a tight-knit tapestry of friendship and perfection with no loose threads or ends. I would never be able to weave my way in between them, I wouldn’t even be able to garner their attention. Sheena on the other hand. She was isolative and no matter how much she tried to loop her arms around Graham he was always just out of reach. Friendly and approachable but strangely aloof. It was clear to see that although he respected Sheena as a thief and classmate he had no intention of becoming anything more than a friend. It was interesting to see her try and scale the wall he put up in between them. No matter how hard she clawed or scratch at it, it never gave way. It certainly never helped when like a cat Sheena would try to tear the tapestry of friendship that Graham and Black Sheep had woven together. She only ever managed to get her claws stuck and get Black Sheep mildly irritated. 

* * *

“What do you want, creep?” She scoffed as she watched me approach her during lunchtime. 

Sitting down across from her I pulled out my handy dandy whiteboard and wrote.

_ “Did you hear about Carla and Annie?” _

“What are you on about?” She questioned her eyes narrowed as she tapped her finger on the table seemingly out of annoyance. 

But the rise of her brow and quirk of her lips showcased her desire to get to know more… curiosity killed the cat indeed.

_ “Guess who stole all of Carla’s underwear?” _

“Always knew Annie was a grade-A bitch and pervert.” She snorted reveling in the joy of gossip.  “But like seriously Carla fucking teddy pair printed underwear? What kind of childish bullshit is that, grow up will you?”

Hook, link, and sinker. 


End file.
